Despite the luxurious crystal chandeliers, the atmosphere in the banquet hall was even more suffocating than the miasma of the Lor Marsh.

Even when attending a banquet, Alfonso remained in his silver armor, seated in the second seat, his newly crowned legend's imposing aura like an invisible layer of ice, freezing the surface of the clinking glasses and lively conversation.

Count Ferdinand, dressed casually, remained elegant, lightly touching the rim of his glass with his fingertips, yet his eyes held a subtle, astute assessment of the situation.

Across from him stood Raymond Tieling, commander of the 10th Regiment, his face taut beneath his white beard, his eyes sharp as a hawk's.

Raymond struck first, his voice like the scraping of cast iron, crashing heavily into the silent air:

"Commander Alfonso! Harrington is a legendary paladin and the Grand Master of the Ninth Holy Knights. Even if the evidence against him is irrefutable, his status and position do not warrant your public execution without a three-stage trial and examination by the Holy City's highest tribunal, deliberation by the council of elders, and final judgment by His Excellency the Archbishop!!"

"This is a usurpation of the ironclad laws of the Holy Light Code, and a blatant disregard for the authority of the Privy Council and the Council of Elders! If this trend continues, what legal authority and dignity will the Thirteen Knights of the Holy Light Church have left?!"

His words were firm and resounding, his gaze fixed intently on Alfonso, trying to find a flaw in the other's face.

Ferdinand's rebuttal yesterday prevented him from completely suppressing Alfonso on the issue of procedural justice, but he still has a backup plan.

Alfonso's expression remained calm, as if Raymond's accusations were merely a breeze brushing against his armor.

He raised his hand, his movements simple and detached from any worldly concerns.

Beside him, Elliot, who had been silent like a shadow, stepped forward and placed a scroll sealed with a special magical material, along with several crystals recording magical images, steadily on the table in front of the Ebony Staff Envoy.

"This is a copy of the original secret order given by the highest cardinal of the Holy City," Alfonso's voice was cold and clear, like ice shards striking each other, "as well as the original video of private letters between Harrington Stewart, the orc Kargath, and the Enlightened Puppet Master, with their handwritten signatures and soul imprints clearly identifiable."

"There is also real-time battlefield record of him ordering the Ninth Knights to turn their spears around and cooperate with the remnants of the orc army to fight against the Enlightenment Society on the Blackwater Shallows battlefield - this is irrefutable evidence."

The holy light seal and secret command emblem on the scroll, as well as the image flowing in the crystal with Harrington's unique soul fluctuations, exuded an unquestionable aura of authority under the light.

The gray-eyed envoy's icy gaze swept over the evidence, a flicker of emotion passing through his lifeless eyes.

The envoy, holding an ebony staff, examined the object carefully and nodded slightly.

Ferdinand's lips curled into a faint smile.

Raymond was anxious inside, but he forced himself to remain calm on the surface.

The evidence was irrefutable, and he could not deny it outright.

Fortunately, Alfonso doesn't seem to have been able to uncover his relationship with Harrington.

In that case, he should strike while the iron is hot and not give Alfonso a chance to talk nonsense!

This is the moment he's been waiting for!

Just as the Ebony Staff envoy seemed about to begin preliminary verification of the evidence, Raymond abruptly stood up, his imposing figure creating a gust of wind, and his voice suddenly rose, filled with shock, anger, and accusation:

"Evidence? What irrefutable evidence! Alfonso Lin! Do you think you can cover up your even greater crimes by producing this?!"

He pointed at Alfonso, his voice booming and echoing throughout the banquet hall:

"You keep claiming to uphold the Holy Light and cleanse traitors! But you yourself are harboring and protecting the most dangerous heretics! Your so-called 'Grey Falcon' squad is nothing but blasphemers!"

"What they are using is an evil power that devours life and connects to the abyss!"

"On the battlefield of Blackwater Shallows, countless soldiers witnessed them transform into blood-red thorns, like demons drawing on the life essence of orc shamans to strengthen themselves!"

"How could such evil heretics remain unharmed under the protection of your Thirteenth Holy Knights, and even brazenly enter the Holy Light Pass with you!"

Raymond's gaze swept over the two envoys, especially the one with gray eyes, deliberately emphasizing the words that would provoke the Inquisition:

"Such blasphemous heresy, defiling the very essence of the Holy Light, is happening right now, right here within this pass! I, Raymond Ironridge, as the guardian of this pass, cannot stand idly by, as it is my duty!!"

"To maintain the purity of the Holy Light, I have ordered the elite Iron Guards of the Tenth Regiment, in conjunction with the Secret Guards of the Inquisition, to apprehend all these lurking heretics while you were enjoying your banquet!"

"They're being escorted here right now. Once they're caught red-handed, let's see how you try to deny it then!"

His chest heaved, as if his anger was barely contained, and he stared intently at Alfonso, uttering each word slowly and deliberately:

"Alfonso Lin! You have protected heretics and blasphemed the clergy, your crimes are even greater than Harrington's! What else do you have to say?! You too should be thoroughly examined by the court!"

For a moment, the banquet hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The Ebony Staff Envoy frowned, his eyes sharp as knives, as he scanned Alfonso and Raymond.

The gray-eyed envoy's icy pupils suddenly contracted, and he exuded a cold aura of judgment. The shadow under his hood seemed to grow even darker.

Clearly, the words "heresy" and "abyss" completely ignited his instincts as a judge.

Ferdinand's smile faded, his gaze turned serious, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed his wine glass, as if he were quickly weighing the situation.

All eyes were on Alfonso, awaiting the reaction of this newly crowned legend.

Was it shock and anger? Was it an explanation? Or...?

Alfonso slowly raised his head.

On that cold, stern face, there was not a trace of panic, anger, or astonishment that Raymond had expected.

calm.

A calm that seemed to control everything.

He didn't even look at the aggressive Raymond; his silver-grey eyes were like an unfathomable pool, undisturbed by any ripples.

He merely glanced indifferently at the gray-eyed envoy and the ebony-staff envoy, his thin lips slightly parted, his voice remaining steady and cold:

"Oh? You caught him?"

This bland, almost indifferent reaction was like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing the exciting atmosphere of "exposing the conspiracy" that Raymond had deliberately created.

Raymond's heart sank, and a strong sense of unease gripped him.

This reaction is wrong!

Alfonso picked up the glass of water in front of him with unhurried movements, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him:

"Commander Raymond acted swiftly. But are you sure... your men really captured the 'Grey Falcon' squad?"

Let's rewind to when Mark's squad settled into the city.

The heavy city gate closed behind us, shutting out the damp cold and deathly atmosphere of the swamp.

Mark paused almost imperceptibly, and Monica's figure almost simultaneously disappeared into the deepest shadow of the corner of the barracks.

The two exchanged a very brief glance, and without a word, they both saw the same wariness in each other's eyes.

"Something doesn't feel right," Mark said in a low voice, his voice barely audible to his teammates.

An invisible sense of surveillance permeated the air, cold and sharp, carrying the solemnity unique to the courtroom.

Inside the barracks of the Thirteenth Knights' temporary headquarters.

The six members of Mark's team appeared to be resting, but the atmosphere was somewhat tense.